


Favorite Record

by creative_rebellion



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, I'm sorry?, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, but serious, this is entirely based off of a song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8070298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creative_rebellion/pseuds/creative_rebellion
Summary: Bucky remembers his last night in the States for a long time. The Winter Soldier remembers nothing.(But we all know that's not entirely true.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work is 100% based off of a song by Fall Out Boy called Favorite Record and you should definitely listen to it.
> 
> I just kinda wanted some fluff, because I want these two to be happy.

Bucky works so that Steve doesn’t have to. He has to take care of Steve.

It’s one of the many facts of life. The Earth revolves around the sun; George Washington was the first president of the United States; Bucky Barnes takes care of Steve.

He takes care of Steve by getting them money (mostly for medicine and food, but sometimes for other things too. Like art supplies). This means that he works a lot of different jobs around the city.

His most consistent job is at the docks. Occasionally someone at the corner store will take a vacation, and he’ll fill in for them. Sometimes it’s the same deal with a local bakery, which is good because then he can bring back food at a discount.

His favorite job, though, is a taxi driver.

It’s not his favorite because he gets to drive interesting people around the city (people who can actually afford a cab ride are people he considers “rich”). It’s not his favorite because he gets to learn his city in ways he hasn’t been able to before. It’s not even his favorite because of the freedom associated with having access to a car (though, that is a big reason, even if the car is the ugliest thing he’s ever seen. _What an eyesore_ , Steve had said).

It’s his favorite because of his last night working there.

The weeks leading up to it aren’t great. He works a lot of overtime at the docks because there is a part of him that can’t be around Steve after he knows he’s being shipped out. It’s worse after Bucky tells Steve, because then Steve is sad and mopes (he would never admit it, and Bucky would never call him out on it). Steve wants so badly to be going with Bucky across the world, and the fact that Bucky is leaving him makes him withdrawn and resigned.

Bucky hates seeing him this way. (He is used to Steve fighting.)

So instead of seeing him, he works a lot, and his days in America are dwindling when he realizes how stupid he is being. He is leaving Steve. He should be filling his days with Steve, not work.

Steve is the only thing that will help him through the war. He should leave with good memories, not these strained feelings of sadness.

This is when his idea for his last night begins to form.

He does spend more time with Steve. He gets him to agree to “going out” on his last night in the US (as if Steve would say no).

When the day comes, he is nervous.

It’s ridiculous, he tells himself. He shouldn’t be nervous. It’s Steve, for Christsakes –the kid he’s grown up with (not that Steve’s grown that much, mind). It’s their last night together. Hanging out with Steve is normal, and it’s the last “normal” he is going to have for a long time.

With that in mind, he goes and gets the car (he knows he will be able to charm his way around the fact that he’s not technically on the schedule tonight, and he does). He parks right outside of Steve’s place (really it’s _their_ place, but not for much longer), and knocks on the door.

Steve’s face is priceless once he sees Bucky (maybe a little more dressed up than normal) and the cab on the street behind him.

“What’ve you got planned, Bucky?” he asks suspiciously.

Bucky grins and saunters to the cab. Steve follows.

“Where are we going, Buck?”

“You’ll see. Somewhere special,” Bucky tells him. “You’ll love it.”

They roll the windows down, just to feel the air on their faces. Steve’s hand curves through the air outside the window. Bucky wishes he could watch it (watch _Steve_ ) instead of the road. He focuses before he thinks too long on why he wants that.

They drive for a long time. Steve doesn’t ask any more questions, even when they leave the city behind. If Bucky was watching Steve more closely, he might see that Steve was nervous, fidgeting. He doesn’t see this, since he is focusing on the drive.

Finally, Bucky stops the car.

“What, Buck, you lost?” Steve asks with a small grin. There are only trees in front of the car and no one else around.

Bucky rolls his eyes, “C’mon, you punk,” he says as he gets out of the car. “Not too far from here.”

Steve follows closely behind Bucky, and Bucky can feel his confusion and curiosity. He grins to himself as he pulls back the last of the bushes and branches so that Steve can see the view.

(If he thought Steve’s face was priceless before, he doesn’t know what it is now. A corner of his mind whispers _beautiful_ before he tucks that thought away.)

The whole city is spread out in front of them, glowing like a lantern in the late evening darkness.

“Not bad, eh?” Bucky says, still grinning.

Steve smiles back, and then looks down. His face falls and Bucky’s heart stutters.

“This where you take your girls, Buck?”

Bucky slings his arm around Steve’s shoulder, “Jealous?” he asks, trying to make the mood lighter. He talks before Steve can answer (he’s afraid to hear the answer). “No, Stevie, just you. Only found it because someone paid me to take them here,” he points a thumb behind them, as if the taxi is right there.

Steve relaxes under his arm, and Bucky isn’t sure if it’s because of the physical touch, or because he’s never brought a dame here before. Just Steve.

“It’s great, Bucky. Really great. I wish I could draw it.”

“Or paint it,” Bucky suggests.

“I didn’t know the sky could be that color,” Steve says, staring straight up.

Bucky follows his gaze. Now that they’re out of Brooklyn and the city, the sky looks darker, deeper, almost purple instead of blue. He can see stars out here –more than back home.

“Beats looking up from the fire escape, doesn’t it?” Bucky says, stepping away from Steve and sitting down in the small clearing. Steve sits next to him soon after.

“I dunno,” Steve shrugs, “the fire escape isn’t so bad.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, “You always complain how cold it is. Or how hot it is, during the summer.”

Steve at least has the decency to duck his head, “Maybe it’s the company that makes it good, Buck.”

That makes Bucky still, maybe breathe in a little harsher than necessary. He turns to look at Steve, who stares back, determined and unashamed. Bucky is the one who looks away first.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay, Steve,” he says, and his body sags with it. “I’m not happy to go.”

“I know,” Steve says.

“I’ll come back to you, you know.”

“You can’t promise that, Bucky.”

“I can, and I will,” Bucky says shortly. “I’ll come back to you. You just have to wait for me.” Bucky says this as if it’s the simplest thing in the world (as if he hasn’t already found rejection slips mixed in with Steve’s papers). He lies down on the grass, and looks up at the sky and stars again. Really, it’s a much better view than from Brooklyn

 Steve is silent. A few moments pass, and then Steve lies down too, and he puts his head on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I’ll wait,” he mutters. “‘Til the end of the line, right?”

(Later, when Bucky sees Steve across the ocean, three times bigger than normal but definitely _Steve_ , he screams at him “ _You’ll wait for me, huh? How’s that going?_ ” Steve doesn’t reply.)

Bucky grins and nods, knowing Steve will feel it. (He wants to take Steve’s hand in his, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to mess this up on his last night. This is good enough.)

Silence passes, and for a long time neither of them say anything. And then:

“Where are we even?” Steve asks.

“Hoboken.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Steve says, “ _Jersey._ ”

“It’s the birthplace of baseball, I’ll have you know,” Bucky chides.

“It’s only redeemable quality.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Bucky laughs.

Eventually, they stand up and walk back through the bushes, back to the car. As they get to the clearing where the car is parked, Steve stops walking and clears his throat behind Bucky.

“Steve?” Bucky questions, “You okay?”

Steve doesn’t look at him, which makes Bucky worried. Steve isn’t scared of anything. What is happening?

“I, uh… I just wanted.” Steve sighs heavily, clearly frustrated. “I wish I could come with you,” he says quickly.

“Steve, you can’t-”

“Let me finish,” Steve interrupts. “I wish I could come with you. I wish I could repay you for everything you’ve done.”

“We’re _family_ , Steve, it’s not for repay-” Steve’s glare shuts him up.

“You’re a good man, Bucky. The Army is lucky to have you. Anyone is lucky to have you.”

“You have me,” Bucky says, barely realizing he’s said it.

Steve stops, stares at him and stands a bit straighter.

“Maybe,” Steve starts, “Maybe I don’t have you the way I want to have you.”

Bucky stops breathing. “What?”

“Maybe I want to be more than friends, Bucky.”

Silence.

Bucky can hear his own heartbeat. (He’s worried Steve can hear it too.)

Steve is glaring at him –has been glaring since the words left his mouth, as if he’s getting ready for a fight (he never could back down).

Bucky smiles.

“Well, that’s the best damn thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

It takes Steve a second to get it –to understand that he’s not going to be beaten up, that he’s not being rejected. Eventually, he smiles back.

And then Bucky starts laughing, and laughs so hard he bends over.

“What?” Steve asks, still with an edge to his voice, “What are you laughing at?” Hands grab at Bucky’s shoulders.

Bucky straightens and rolls his eyes, “You wait until now to tell me this?”

Steve squawks, “It’s not like you were saying anything, you ass! I’m the only one with any guts, between the two of us!”

Bucky puts his hand on the side of Steve’s face, and kisses him while he is still somewhat flustered.

It feels like coming home.

They are both smiling as Bucky pulls away, eyes closed in bliss. Then Steve blinks up at Bucky, and shoves him against the side of the car to kiss him again.

Bucky laughs his way through it. Steve laughs with him, and the sound plays like a recording in Bucky’s head.

They stay there for a while longer. They turn the car on to hear songs on the radio, they dance to some of them, and they touch and kiss and hold each other as long as they can, until Bucky knows that he has to return the car (and they both need to go to bed and sleep, because Bucky leaves tomorrow).

It’s the best night of his life. (It barely even matters that it only makes leaving Steve that much harder, that much more heart wrenching.)

Bucky remembers it for a long time.

 

\---

 

The Soldier remembers nothing.

\---

Once, when he is still newly made, they send him to kill someone in New York City (why does his brain only want to call it The City, as if it is the only one?) He completes his task as dusk is falling, and then inexplicably steals a cab and leaves.

They track him down hours later, finding him in a Hoboken clearing, just standing and staring at the city.

He does not come out again for a long time.

\---

Decades later, the Solider is leading an away team in the desert.

There is man on his team with blond hair and blue eyes with a slight build.

He cannot stop staring.

The smile isn’t right (what does that mean?) and the laugh…

He is a distraction from the mission. The Soldier knows this. It does not stop the Soldier from staring, and being distracted.

When they are done, the Soldier is ordered to kill everyone on the team. (What do they say about only one person keeping a secret? Is that a saying? He can’t remember.)

He waits until the distraction goes to sleep, and kills everyone else easily. When he enters the distraction’s tent, he hesitates.

He cannot disobey orders.

A single headshot. (The Soldier’s only way of showing kindness: no witness to the bloodshed, no pain). He does not tell anyone that he hesitated. He does not tell anyone that the laugh should’ve been at a higher pitch. He does not tell anyone how he wanted to run his hands through the blond hair, and put his face against his.

He does not know who he thinks the man should’ve been.

\---

The Solider is positioned on a rooftop in a city somewhere (he is not important enough to know where, just who the target is). He has been waiting for hours for the man to exit his office, so that the Soldier can kill him.

He hears footfalls in the alley next to him, about five stories down or so. A group of kids, he thinks, judging by the sound. He ignores them.

And then he hears wheezing. And taunts.

He peers down below him, and sees at least three kids standing over a smaller child who is gasping for breath. The group of kids (teenagers?) are pointing and laughing. One of them throws something at the single child.

They stop laughing when the Soldier lands behind them.

“ _Pick on someone your own size,_ ” he growls in English (do they speak English here? Does he speak English? How long has he been able to speak English?) The children pale before sprinting down the rest of the alley. Only the single child is left, who does not seem to notice the Soldier because they cannot breathe.

The Soldier crouches low in front of the child –a young girl, he thinks, judging by the hair and facial structure. He telegraphs his movements, slowly reaching for her arm with his right hand. He places her hand on his chest and breathes deeply, slowly.

“ _Match it_ ,” he says softly. She looks at him with wide eyes. Then she nods.

It takes a while, but eventually she calms down enough to take deeper breaths. When he is satisfied, the Soldier nods at her and takes her hand away from his chest. He places his hand on her shoulder, his thumb brushing her collarbone in a move that feels familiar to him, though he has never touched anyone this way before (has he?)

“Thank you,” she whispers to him. He nods again, squeezing his hand once, before moving away from her.

“ _Learn to throw a punch,_ ” he offers. “ _Curl your hand, like this,_ ” he demonstrates with his own hand, thumb on the outside. She mirrors him. He nods, holding his hand out, palm towards her. “ _Hit it_.”

She does.

His face curls, lips turning up. He sees hers do the same. Smile.

“ _They won’t bother you anymore_.”

She stares at his face as he backs away, preparing to leave. She is not scared of him (does she even notice his arm?)

“Thank you,” she says again. “Can I take your picture?” she asks.

He is confused. She takes a small rectangle out of her bag and clicks a button. She points it at him, and it makes a noise. He is staring at it with his head cocked to the side, because he doesn’t understand. (That device is too small to take pictures, his brain tells him. What is she doing?)

He leaves soon after.

By the time he gets back in position, the target is gone already. He missed his chance.

The mission is delayed another day. His handlers are not happy, and he is punished for dawdling.

He doesn’t regret it.

\---

“Bucky?”

The Soldier steps forward. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Even as he aims to shoot, his brain is screaming at him ( _remember remember remember the distraction in the desert remember the war before that remember this man as a boy who couldn’t breathe and was always getting in fights remember Brooklyn and New York City remember remember remember)_

He is glad to flee the area, even though he does not complete his mission.

 

 

\---

 

Bucky does, eventually, remember most things (including his time as the Winter Soldier, which is unfortunate).

(When his existence is turned into a legal battle, there is a twenty five year old girl who’s post on social media goes viral when she shares a picture of him and a story of how he saved her when she was eleven and being bullied. One side points to it as proof that he was/is not completely evil, and should be seen as a POW. The other side points to it as proof that he was clearly functioning under his own reason, and should be held accountable for all his actions. He knows that neither of these understandings are completely correct.)

Sometimes he wishes he could remember how to forget.

The nightmares aren’t new. He remembers having nightmares during the war. (What’s new is the design of the nightmares. Instead of reliving his kills, it’s the fear that Hydra will recapture him. It’s the fear that he will face down Steve again, but he won’t stop this time.)

Steve.

Steve is… trying.

Trying not to overwhelm. Trying to allow distance. Trying to learn a new person built on a memory of an old friend. (Friend? Is that the word for it?)

It bothers him. Are they friends? What about…

( _What about more_ , his brain asks, remembering a half-forgotten memory of a dark night with lights and stars and happiness and the most hideous taxi he has ever seen.)

His thoughts come to a point one night, when he leaves his room to find Steve sitting on the couch, looking at an old picture (of them?)

“Steve,” he says.

Steve’s shoulders tighten, as if he is holding himself back. He finally looks up and meets Bucky’s eyes, “Bucky.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

Steve leans back on the couch, “Of course.”

Bucky walks closer, standing just on the other side of the couch. “Do… do you,” Bucky wishes this were easier (that he wasn’t so nervous about it). “Do you remember when we drove?”

Steve’s face goes a little slack as he looks at Bucky (surprise? Shock? Amazement?) “The night before you left?” he asks, voice a little rough.

Bucky shakes his head, “I don’t know.”

“Well,” Steve starts, “we didn’t really drive –we didn’t have access to a car. But before you were shipped out, you had a job as a taxi driver, and the night before you left, you took me to see The City.”

Bucky sits, touches his fingers to his forehead. “A taxi driver?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods.

“You said…” Bucky tries to remember, “you called it an eyesore.”

Steve laughs (sobs?) and nods again, “It was horrible, Buck. Bright yellow and red with checkered lines.”

Bucky nods once. “What else happened that night?”

“You took me to Hoboken,” Steve breathes.

“Hoboken,” Bucky mutters, closing his eyes to try and see it in his memory. “There was a clearing.”

“Yeah,” Steve manages.

“I went there once, after they… when I was… when I wasn’t me,” Bucky says carefully. “I didn’t know why, but I knew it was important.”

Steve is silent.

Bucky turns to him, “Why was it important?”

Steve looks away and runs his hand through his hair. “Jeez, Buck, that was… That was the night I told you I wanted to be more than just friends.”

“You wanted…” Bucky’s brain skids to a halt. “Oh.”

Distantly, he knows Steve is saying something. ( _Don’t feel like you have to… I would never expect things to be the same… You asked me to wait for you and I did, even though that’s not how you meant it…_ ) But he feels… He feels…

Happiness is blooming in his chest, and he almost doesn’t even recognize it –wouldn’t recognize it if it wasn’t for the memory of that night. Steve isn’t really looking at him as he rambles, or else he would see the smile forming on his face. Bucky remembers.

Steve is saying, “but you should know that my feelings haven’t changed, even though I don’t expect anything from it, okay?”

There is silence.

Finally, Steve looks at Bucky, and his breath stutters.

“Well,” Bucky says, “that’s the best damn thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Steve’s face is like then sunrise after he gets over the shock of it. He is reaching over to Bucky, and Bucky lets Steve touch his face, cup his hand around Bucky’s jaw.

“Is this… is this okay?”

Bucky huffs a laugh. He takes Steve’s wrist in his hand and pulls him closer. The kiss isn’t quite like he remembers (Steve is much bigger now, and it’s a different angle, and his memory is kinda shitty, honestly) but it doesn’t matter because there’s one thing that is the same.

It’s still like coming home.

“Home,” Bucky mutters. “You are my home. You’re what I was looking for, in Hoboken, and…” _and the desert and in that alley_.

“Bucky,” Steve breathes, and then kisses him again.

They kiss until Bucky’s breathing is ragged and Steve is pressing him back into the couch. When Steve pulls back, Bucky doesn’t let him get too far, and rests their foreheads together.

“How’re you doin’, Buck?”

Bucky grins.

“Better, Stevie. I’m doing better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, cabs in the 1930s/40s were hideous. Google it.
> 
> (Please leave comments and kudos!)


End file.
